


Destiny and Djinns

by SpockPandaSaurus (xxpanda92xx)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Family Fluff, Fix-It, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22733116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpanda92xx/pseuds/SpockPandaSaurus
Summary: "It's good to meet you, Ciri. I'm Jaskier. I used to travel with Geralt.""I know, he's told me about you," she says, shaking his hand, and isn't that a surprise? "It's good to meet you. I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to."He opens his mouth, but Geralt talks over him. Nothing new there. "Will you listen if I talk?"He debates it. He could say no, should say no to save himself the time and heartache of being Geralt's friend, but how often does Geralt have something to say? Or care if the audience is listening? "Do you have money? Because I feel like I might need to be spectacularly drunk for it."-----Or, Geralt apologizes, Jaskier and Yennefer are drinking buddies, and Ciri gets a new family.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 63
Kudos: 205
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen the show and read The Last Wish, so if anything is wildly inaccurate or anything, I apologize. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Oxenfurt wasn't the city Geralt expected it to be. He wasn't sure what he expected, honestly. Probably something a bit louder and more flowery, given his previous companion's penchant for all thing vibrant. And it's certainly more of that than most places he goes. Ciri's going to hurt her neck if she keeps swinging it side to side like that, trying to take everything in. But it's quieter and more relaxed than he anticipated. Lots of young people fill the tavern, but many have thick books occupying their table space and they're eating around them. It's busy and bustling, but not as chaotic as cities this size tend to be. He asks about it at the tavern they go to for lunch. "You're here during exam season," the barmaid explains. "No time for revelry when all that wasted time is coming back to bite you in the ass. Give it a few weeks, and the place will liven right up, trust me. All sorts of parties and things going on."

"Are we going to be here that long?" Ciri asks when they're alone again.

"Don't know. Probably not. Expensive without a contract," he answers. She nods and eats quietly, not looking up at him. He sighs through his nose. "Did you... want to? Stay?" he asks.

"It might be neat," she says, "but it's okay. Have to go where the contracts are."

He hums a little. He wishes he could promise they could stay till there's something fun going on. They haven't had much fun in a while. But there's also the matter of money, and he can't lie his way into financial prosperity like that. He hadn't intended to stop here at all, but there was something he wanted to explore before they continued on the Path. "We'll at least get the new clothes I promised," he concedes, "though it might shorten our stay. But you'll have a souvenir to take with you."

She gives him a small smile. "Thank you, Geralt."

He grunts and turns to his own food. It's been a year since Destiny pushed them together, and Ciri has grown much. She needs new clothes, and probably new shoes; she hasn't said anything, but he's sure the ones he bought her last time are pinching terribly by now. He's shit at this whole guardian/protector/fatherhood thing. He's not even sure what to call it, let alone how to handle or address it. But for all the hell she's been through and how unpleasant he knows he can be, she's handling it well. They move from place to place frequently, hunting monsters and avoiding Nilfgaard's forces and spies who are looking for her. There's very little time for fun at all. He ponders the coin they have left and if they can stretch it to cover something nice for her. A necklace or something along those lines, something that has no purpose besides making her smile. 

"So why did we stop here?" she interrupts his brooding to ask. "There were at least two smaller villages we passed to get here. They might have had cheaper inns. Maybe even a monster problem for you."

"Hm," he acknowledges with a tilt of his head. "There's something I want to look into here."

"Yes, you said that, but you won't say what it is."

"Because I don't know if it will work."

"Why does that make a difference if I know or not?"

"Just eat your stew."

She glares a little, but obeys. There's still a lot of Calanthe's attitude in her, but though sometimes it's annoying to deal with her acting like the world should bend to her whims, he doesn't discourage it. She'll need that spirit to get through whatever bullshit fate and destiny decide to throw her way. After lunch, they secure a room at the inn, and she insists on tagging along when he tells her he's going to the university. "If we can't stay long enough to have fun, at least don't make me stay shut up inside all the time we're here," she complains, and he acquiesces.

An administrator meets them at the gates, which is fine. He didn't have a specific person in mind anyways. "I want to learn to play the lute," he says bluntly, before she can begin her spiel about their different courses. "I'm a Witcher, so I don't have time or coin to invest in tuition, I just want to meet with someone who can teach me the basics before I'm to leave again."

She eyes him sternly, not as intimidated as most are when meeting him for the first time. "Looking to make extra coin on your travels?"

"Something like that. Is there someone who can help or not?" Ciri elbows him for his rudeness, but he ignores it. They don't have time to waste on pleasantries. 

The woman studies him a little longer, then nods. "Follow me." She leads them into the university and down a series of halls. "I can't promise he'll have time for you, but I think Professor Julian would be you best bet," she explains as they walk. "He's the best at improvising tunes and playing while on the road. However, he's also one of our most popular professors, so his time is valuable and limited." She looks over her shoulder and smiles just slightly; it's the first emotion he's gotten out of her since they started talking. "One might say he has a soft spot for Witchers, so you've got a better chance than others, at least."

She stops them in front of a door before he can ask about that. "This is his office. He should be just inside, as one of his classes just ended. Find me if you need anything else."

"We will."

"Thank you!" Ciri adds for him as the woman walks away. "You're so rude," she mutters under her breath.

He hears her, but he isn't really listening. There's voices arguing in Professor Julian's office, and he knows one of them. He hasn't heard it in years, never thought he would again, but it's unmistakable.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier sighs as he and his father glare at each other across his desk. "I'm not coming back," he repeats for what feels like the millionth time this week. "I love you and Ma, I really do. But I'm not interested in everything that comes with our title. I'm sorry."

"What are you going to do instead? Sit here and sing songs all day? How is that any more important than coming home and taking responsibility for who you are?" his father snaps.

He takes a deep breath and reins in his temper. _Sing songs all day?_ As if that's all he's done with his life since he left home years ago? "I was thinking of traveling again," he says. "Not much inspiration to be found in dusty halls like there was out on the road."

His father sneers. "Traveling again? Found another Witcher who will let you tag along, have you? And when this one casts you aside? What will you do then?"

Jaskier barely hears his father's words, distracted by voices outside his door. It sounded like Lavinia speaking to someone, and answered by- but no, these halls echoed weirdly. It couldn't have been. He turns his attention back to his father. "I'm sorry, what were you saying? I thought I heard something."

"What will you do when this next Witcher gets tired of traveling with you and casts you aside like last time? What then?" The words are harsh, but he sees the worry in his father's eyes. 

"I'm not- there is no-" he stammers, trying to retrace the conversation and figure out where this talk about a Witcher came from.

"That's not even what happened," a voice says as the door opens. A young girl marches in. She's in clothes that are a little short on her, the ends of her sleeves and pants not quite reaching the end of her limbs. Her face is familiar, but she looks too young to be a student, or at least a student confident enough to barge into a professor's office unannounced, even one as lax about decorum as he. "That's not what I heard, anyways," she continues. 

"About what?" he asks, very confused and feeling like the conversation and events have gotten away from him entirely.

"About the White Wolf leaving you," she says. "This man has it all wrong." She approached the desk and stood facing his father, who at least seemed to share in his confusion. "The bard didn't get 'cast aside'. He's the one that left, to find a more worthy traveling companion. The White Wolf's a bit of an ass, really. Who else blames their best friend in the whole wide world for all the pile of horse shit that they've shoveled on themselves?"

Jaskier's specialty is his quick thinking. It helps him come up with tunes and lyrics in the spur of a moment, to feel the mood of a room and play what pieces will net him the best response, to change lyrics midstream if it seems like his song isn't being well received. Those specific phrases - 'best friend in the whole wide world', 'pile of shit that they shoveled', 'worthy traveling companion' - combined with a familiar face and more familiar attitude - he knows where she's heard them, who told her to say them.

"And where did you hear that, little girl?" his father asks, apparently too flabbergasted by her bluntness to call attention to her poor manners.

"From the horse's mouth. Or ass, as it were," says a deep voice Jaskier hasn't heard in ages. Geralt comes into the room, smiling fondly at the young girl. "Don't say 'shit', Fiona. It's impolite."

She rolls her eyes so hard it looks like it hurt. "Like you have room to talk," she grumbles. 

Geralt snorts and comes around the desk. Jaskier doesn't even know he's standing until he's being pulled into a hearty clap on the back. "It's been too long, Jaskier," he says fondly. All Jaskier can do is gape until Geralt pulls away. He keeps his hands clasped on Jaskier's shoulders and gives him a Look.

Jaskier knows that Look. It's the 'play along and maybe we'll get through this in one piece look'. Usually, it was Jaskier giving it to Geralt when social niceties failed him - basically any social situation they were in, really - but he'd been on the receiving end enough to remember it. And so, even though he is as confused as he'd ever been and his heart is screeching in agony like the strings on a beginner's instrument, he smiles and returns the affection. "Geralt! It's good to see you!"

"You too, my friend. Forgive the intrusion, we were coming to see Professor Julian, and Fiona couldn't help overhearing the commotion inside and felt the need to correct things. She has her grandmother's temper, some times." 

Jaskier puts the pieces together. The only child Geralt would let travel with him would be the Child Surprise, but he's heard rumors that Nilfgaard are hunting the Lion Cub of Cintra. An assumed name then, and he's been let in on it. The show of trust, even if unconsciously done, means something to him, and he wishes it didn't.

"Julian, who is this?" his father demands.

He sees the shock and confusion flit through Geralt's eyes even as his face remains in its pleasant mask. "This is Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, father," he says by way of introduction. "And Geralt, this is my father, Aflred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove."

"A title that should be yours," his father snaps, and then his face smooths into something much more polite. "Forgive me, you've caught me at the end of a long and tiresome day. It is good to meet you, Geralt of Rivia. I have heard much about you from my son."

Geralt shakes his father's hand and smiles. "Then I know that you're lying, for I treated your son terribly during our friendship, so if you heard too much, you wouldn't say it was good to meet me."

"Some people," Fiona cuts in over the awkward spluttering, "know how to be polite even in bad company."

Geralt hums a little and tilts his head towards her in acknowledgement. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt your reunion. We'll be at the inn, Jaskier, if you would like to meet with us when you've got time."

"Don't bother yourself on my account," his father says. "It's not a conversation that we haven't had before, and one we'll have again, I'm sure. Think about what I said, Julian. I'll see you tomorrow." 

He comes around the table to hug his father. Despite their arguments, they really do love each other, and it's been good to talk to the man when it's about anything but his title and everything that accompanies it. "I'll see you then," he promises, and then after a few moments of polite goodbyes, he's left alone with two people he never thought he'd see. "Well," he says, for once not sure what else to say.

Geralt drops his overly cheerful persona, which really wasn't that cheerful so much as just approachable. Fiona relaxes a little too. "Professor Julian?" Geralt asks after a moment of awkward silence.

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, future Viscount de Lettenhove if my father has anything to say about it, at your service," he says grandly. "Jaskier was a better name for the road."

"Agreed," Geralt says. He lowers his voice a little. "This is Ciri. She's-"

"I know," Jaskier interrupts. "I was there, remember?" He extends his hand to the young girl and ducks a little to be at eye level with her. "It's good to meet you, Ciri. I'm Jaskier. I used to travel with Geralt."

"I know, he's told me about you," she says, shaking his hand, and isn't that a surprise? "It's good to meet you. I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to."

He opens his mouth, but Geralt talks over him. Nothing new there. "Will you listen if I talk?"

He debates it. He could say no, should say no to save himself the time and heartache of being Geralt's friend, but how often does Geralt have something to say? Or care if the audience is listening? "Do you have money? Because I feel like I might need to be spectacularly drunk for it."

Geralt and Ciri share a look. "I suppose that depends how the part of the conversation I was intending to have with the professor goes."

He sighs. "Let's go to my rooms then. I'll have wine brought up, and it'll be more comfortable than wherever you're staying. And she doesn't have to be in the middle of it."

He leads the way down halls, turning over a sign on the door to the office informs people he's out. Thank the gods his last class is over for the day, he can give this the time and attention it deserves, and get drunk for the rest of evening. Geralt follows a step or two behind, but Ciri marches at his side. "Will you come with us when he takes me shopping for clothes?" she asks. "You look like you actually know how color works."

He laughs and hears a soft snort behind him. "You poor thing, you've had to do your shopping with his help? No one should be subjected to that torture."

"It's been awful," she confirms. "I can't get an opinion on anything unless it's black. The only other color he approved of? Brown."

"He once suggested I wear black," Jaskier confides, "and I dumped my ale over his head."

She laughs and looks over her shoulder. He doesn't have to to feel the roll of Geralt's eyes, and something about that both eases and intensifies the ache in his chest. It's good to know they haven't been apart so long he forgot his friend. He hates that he still thinks of Geralt as his friend and cares about knowing his body language. 

Geralt gives an interested hum as they enter his rooms. "Does every professor have a room here?"

"Most live in their own homes," Jaskier answers, "but visiting and temporary ones can rent them for the duration of their stay. If you're actively teaching, then it's pretty cheap." It isn't much, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small living room to receive company. "My office is the same, though I don't have to pay for it. Mine for the season, someone else's when I move on."

While he arranges to have wine brought up, Ciri goes straight to his bookshelf. "You have so many!" she exclaims. "I miss reading."

Something complicated passes over Geralt's face. Jaskier pulls out several that he knows are appropriate for younger audiences. "I don't know if they'll be interesting. A lot are more academic than anything. But you're welcome to read them while we talk. Just ask before you borrow any others, if these ones aren't palatable. Some are... not child friendly."

"I'm not a child," she grumbles, but he doesn't hand over the stack until she agrees. 

The wine is delivered to his door, and he leads Geralt to his bedroom. He makes himself comfortable lounging on his bed while Geralt awkwardly leans against a wall. The only other chair in the place is covered in outfits he'd tried on and discarded the last time he'd been called upon to play for a party. He downs two cups of wine before waving a hand in Geralt's direction. "So you were looking for a professor?" It seems an easier place to start than whatever else Geralt could possibly have to say to him. Business before pleasure. Or heartache, as the case may be. 

Geralt nods. "To play the lute."

"You- what? That doesn't make sense. You were looking for a professor to play the lute? Is this some kind of weird thing to lift a curse? Because if so, count me right out." Geralt's expression falters, just a tiny bit. Interesting. "I like my voice intact, if it's all the same to you."

"Me too," Geralt says, almost too quiet for Jaskier to catch. "But no, I meant to be taught how to play."

"Missed me that much? Nostalgic for my lovely music that saved, nay, built your reputation?" he snarls. "If only there was someone who would travel with you to do that for you."

Geralt tips his head in acknowledgement, then turns it to nod at the closed door. "She has nightmares. She inherited her mother's voice, so it's a blessing that she doesn't wake up screaming."

Geralt might be a bit of a bastard, but even his heart seems to ache for the young girl, and Jaskier can relate. "Who can blame her? I heard about the Fall, and rumors that Nilfgaard is hunting her."

"All true. She doesn't know why. But they've killed everyone she knows. Sent dopplers after her. She's running, scared and alone, knows nothing about her power or why they want her. She's just a kid." Geralt looks... forlorn is the best word for it. Jaskier doesn't know how long they've been together, but it's long enough for her to have wormed her way into his heart. Admittedly, it's not as hard as it sounds with this particular Witcher, but it's interesting to see when his last memory of the man is a heartbroken, furious beast on a mountaintop. 

"And this inspires you to pick up the lute instead of the sword because?" he asks.

Geralt looks down. "I'd always sleep better when you took first watch and played while I was falling asleep." Those words are a balm he wasn't anticipating, and he has to fight not to show how much they mean. "I don't have time to become a student, obviously, or train under a master, so I asked for a professor who could teach me enough of the basics to play a tune or two. They directed me to you. Said you were popular so you might not have time, but you had a soft spot for Witchers so I might get lucky." He looks up again and his face is softer, more expressive than usual. "I wouldn't have come without warning if I'd known your name was Julian. Seems a stupid thing not to know, now. But I would have sent you a note and asked for your company, instead of barging in and forcing it on you when I understand if you don't want it."

"And what Ciri said, when she came barging in?" 

It's not quite the question he wants to ask, but Geralt seems to know what he means. "I didn't like how he was talking to you. I told her what to say. And...." He trails off, wrestles with something in himself, and then looks Jaskier straight in the eye. "And I meant it."

"My next song should be called The Horse's Ass," Jaskier says. It doesn't come out as severe as he wanted it to, sounding like a joke instead of a barb.

"It'd be your most accurate one to date," Geralt says with a self-deprecating quirk of his lips. "I know it's too little, too late, but I really am sorry, Jaskier. You were not the source of all the shit in my life, and I should not have taken my anger out on you. I was going to apologize when I went back down to camp, but you weren't there. And you weren't in town. I knew if you wanted to see me, you'd have waited, so I didn't hunt you down."

"I caught up with Yen," Jaskier tells him. "We managed to have our first civil conversation. She told me about the dragon, and the wish. Told me why she was walking away, and why you'd pushed me to do the same. She told me if I waited, you'd probably apologize."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't." He sighs and starts drinking his wine straight from the bottle. "You said you meant it when you had Ciri call me your best friend, but you never acted like it." He replays different parts of their friendship while he drinks again. "Well, I guess you did. Saving me with the djinn, playing bodyguard at the banquet, saving me from danger. I suppose, from you, that's friendship. But you always treated me terribly. For every good deed, there were three insults and the occasional punch. I don't mean the banter, but the actual insults, the ones that were designed to hurt. And I didn't mind, not really. Coming from a man who wasn't even supposed to have friends or feelings, even one kind act goes a long way to cover the sting of the other stuff.

"But I decided I didn't want to deal with it anymore, after what you said," he continues. "I didn't have to, I was making it fine on my own before you. We met on a bad day, sure, but it was the anomaly, not the norm. And it's one thing to annoy you till you insult me, which makes me annoy you more, which makes for a grand cycle of weird friendship, but it's an entirely different thing when you tell me I'm the source of every bad thing in your life."

Geralt grunts in acknowledgement. His face is stony and impassive, but in a way that speaks louder than the fake smile he wore earlier. He's guilty and he's hurting and he's listening to Jaskier. "And I knew you weren't ready to have me around for a while," Jaskier adds gently. Geralt cocks an eyebrow at him. "Even if I'd stayed and waited, even if you apologized, you were still upset. You were a wounded wolf, but this wasn't an injury I could treat. If I'd stayed, we just would have ended up fighting again, hurting again, and possibly worse. I figured it best for everyone if I just left."

"Not without one final song."

"You heard that one, huh?" Jaskier winces. 

"The Wolf and the Dragon? I did. It put me in much too kind a light."

"It did," Jakier agrees, "but it wasn't for you. It was Yen's idea. We wanted to keep Borch and the others safe. Talked about you killing it and splitting the treasure with the dwarfs, who were happy to go along with it. Hopefully it kept fewer people from going up the mountain to find the dragon's hoard. Or at least keep the numbers small enough the egg would be protected."

"I can't believe you and Yennefer were able to stay civil enough to write a song together," Geralt says, shaking his head.

Jaskier grins. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? In this case, the other person angry at my Witcher is someone to get outrageously drunk with and have a fantastic time bitching about him."

Geralt snorts. "Glad you two worked it out then." A shadow falls over his face. "After the Battle of Sodden, she- I can't-"

"She's recovering in Aretuza," Jaskier fills in for him. "And I shouldn't be telling you that, she'll cut off my penis for real if she knows, so don't do something stupid and go find her, please. She came here once and happened to run into me in the shop where she was buying ingredients for some medicine or potion or something. I'm guessing whatever happened - she didn't tell me, I promise I'm not holding back - used enough power to sever her connection from the wish. She didn't look well, but she's not dead, so relax."

Geralt slumps against the wall. Well, what really happens is Geralt stands less straight against the wall, but for him, it's a drastic change. If he and Ciri are together much longer, he might start emoting like a regular human being. "Thank you, Jask. I won't betray your trust."

They sit in the quiet of the room for a while. "So where does this leave us?" Jaskier finally asks. 

"That's up to you." His face is still completely impassive, but his eyes aren't. They're practically begging. Jaskier just isn't sure what for.

"What are the options?" 

"Ciri and I can leave, go back to the inn, and put Oxenfurt to our backs. After I take her shopping or she might kill me in my sleep, destiny be damned," he adds. "And you never have to see me again. Or- I heard through the door- you were thinking about traveling again?" Jaskier nods, hopeful and afraid it will bite him in the ass. "Or you could travel with me and Ciri, and I promise I'll try at being a better friend, even though I'll probably still be shit at it. Or somewhere in between. It's your choice. I've said my part, and after what I said last time we spoke, it's up to you."

"And what do you want?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does," Jaskier argues, "because if it's peace and quiet, then I won't be a very good traveling companion and it's only a matter of time until we end up here again."

Geralt growls a little, but Jaskier waits him out. "If it was only my feelings that mattered, you'd ride out with me tomorrow and have plenty of inspiration for new songs," he finally confesses.

"Not that you'd listen, fillingless pie and all that," Jaskier mutters. He didn't mean for the Witcher to hear it, but of course he does with his enhanced hearing.

Geralt winces. "I said that in jest," he admits. "It was meant to be more banter. I was exhausted, and it came out wrong."

"Don't make fun of my voice again, or this whole thing is off," Jaskier warns, sitting up to convey his sincerity. "Constructive criticism I will take - how else am I to improve - but general insults or banter about it are off the table, are we clear? Or I'll make you eat your words." He can see the moment an idea springs into Geralt's mind. "What is it?"

"I've got to get something from the inn. Will you let me back in if I go?"

Jaskier is incredibly confused, but he nods. "Ciri can wait here, if she'd like."

"Thank you for sharing your books with her," Geralt says as he walks to the door. 

"An apology and gratitude? You're not dying, are you?" He says it as a joke, but his stomach turns at the thought of it. Geralt is his friend, dammit, no matter how hard he tries to tell himself otherwise. 

Geralt's lips twitch, just a little. "No more so than usual, bard."

It's stupid, but he feels a spike of anxiety as Geralt starts to leave, worries that Ciri will go with him and they won't come back. "Cancel your room!" he calls. Geralt turns back from the open door to look at him. "If you want," he amends hastily. 

"Where would we stay?"

"Here. We can share like we did when coin was low, and Ciri can have the couch out there. No need to waste your coin when you could stay with- with your friend. Your best friend."

"In the whole wide world," Geralt says. Jaskier can't help the grin that breaks out. "Let me just check with Ciri."

"I'm not deaf, you know," she calls out to them. He follows Geralt out, swaying a tiny bit on his feet now that the wine has rushed to his head. "I'd definitely rather stay here."

"We might not be able to stay as long as you'd like," Geralt warns her.

She looks at Jaskier. "I wanted to stay till exams are over, because they said the town would be way more interesting after everyone's done."

"Well, it's not like I can leave any earlier," he says, "seeing as how I'm teaching classes." He catches Geralt's eye. "So unless you're planning on leaving without me, I think you can stay at least that long."

Her face lights up. "Are you coming with us then?"

"I have yet to find a worthier traveling companion," he says, and it's both a joke and a admission. Geralt hums, and the corners of his mouth twitch up just enough to be interpreted as a smile. "And Geralt wanted to play the lute, but if I don't go with you, you'll be begging for torture instead. It takes years to get right."

Geralt grunts but doesn't argue, just leaves. Ciri smiles at Jaskier over the book. "I'm glad you're coming. He tries, but he's still not very good at talking."

"I'm still in shock that he talked to me, let alone that much," Jaskier admits.

"He's missed you. He'd get a funny look on his face every time there was another bard playing, and he got all grumpy if they played Toss a Coin because he said they didn't sing it right."

"I'll have to brush up on that one," Jaskier realizes out loud. "It's been a while since I played it." She tilts her head in an inquiring way, and he wonders if that was something she learned from Geralt, or if Destiny likes to reveal itself in smaller ways than just dramatic surprises. Might make for a good song some day. "I didn't really want anyone tossing him anything except rotten vegetables after what he said."

She snickers. "He wouldn't tell me what he said, just that it wasn't very nice."

"I probably shouldn't repeat it. There was a lot of strong language."

She rolls her eyes. "If you'd ever met my grandmother, you'd know-"

"I did, actually," Jaskier interrupts. "I played at your mother and father's betrothal ceremony. Which was also Calanthe's and Eist's, now that I think about it."

She sits up straighter, book forgotten in her lap. "Tell me about them."

"I don't remember much, I'm afraid. I was only there the one night, and spent most of the night playing and dancing." He can't believe it; every Cintran in attendance is most likely dead now, and others besides. It wasn't that long ago, not really. Who could have imagined that it would have taken only a short handful of years for Cintra to fall so entirely, let alone the Lioness and her daughter?

"Tell me what you remember. Please," she tacks on at the end. He can tell he's going to have his work cut out for him with both the White Wolf and the Lion Cub if either are going to learn some manners. At least she's trying.

"The Lioness didn't want something pretty, she wanted a jig," he recalls. He picks up his lute, settles himself into a chair, and begins strumming along as he tells the story. "Said I could play something sad at her funeral. Sorry, I-"

Ciri shakes her head. "I heard her say that a lot too. It's okay."

He nods and continues with the tale. He's just reaching the bit about the Child Surprise when Geralt comes back in. He's laden with most, if not all, of their things, but he stills sets everything down quietly so as not to interrupt the story. "And I think," Jaskier is saying, "that this man's surprise was even bigger than your father's."

There's a couple tears at the corner of her eyes, but she smiles through them. Geralt comes to stand near her and puts a hand on her shoulder. She immediately clings to it with her own. "Is there more?" she asks. 

"Not much. Once everyone had settled down from the Surprise, Calanthe and Eist had their own ceremony, and then everyone disbanded. A little too many events in one night, you know?" He meets Geralt's eye, who's looking at him with a quirked brow, and knows Geralt knows that it was really he and his love of the evening who abandoned what was left of the party. In his defense, there really wasn't much to abandon. 

"Thank you," she says. "Grandmother never talked about them. I think it hurt her too much."

"It's hard to talk about someone you've lost sometimes," he says gently. "Don't feel bad if it's hard to talk about it, okay? We'll always listen when you do - especially Geralt because he never talks so he has to listen - but don't make yourself talk when it's too hard because you think you have to."

She looks up to Geralt as if for confirmation. He nods, and then she's running across the room and throwing her arms around Jaskier's neck. He barely has time to position the lute so that neither she nor the instrument get hurt. She doesn't cry, but her breathing is uneven, and he returns the hug as long as she wants it. When she pulls away, dabbing at her eyes just a little, he turns his focus to Geralt so she can have a moment to pull herself together. He doesn't call his friend out on the soft look on his face, just asks, "So, what was so important you had to abandon us?"

"Something's being sent up from the inn. And then I had Roach moved to a closer stable, so she didn't get twitchy."

"Roach is still with you?" Jaskier asks, delighted. Geralt grunts. "How is she? I should bring her some sugar! Do you think she remembers me?"

"You shouldn't spoil her. I'm sure she remembers you. Can't promise whether she'll be happy to or not."

"I should definitely bring her sugar cubes then." He leaps to his feet. "In fact, I'll go get some from the kitchens right now." 

"Jaskier-" he hears, but ignores it. He's been on quite the emotional ride today, landing on so many different feelings within such a short time span, and he's finally arrived at 'giddy'. He's going to be traveling again. With Geralt and Roach and Ciri. There will be new adventures, new songs. And Geralt apologized to him. In full sentences even! He's bursting with energy, and uses it to quickly procure some sugar and run down to the stables nearest the university. Roach does remember him, and she doesn't try to bite him, so that's a good sign. She bumps his head with hers, which hurts a little because she's used to headbutting the man with the thickest head on the world, but he doesn't care. He's too damned happy to be bothered. 

When he gets back to the room, he can't believe the domestic scene in front of him. There are two pies on the small table. Geralt is sitting and sharpening a sword, a comfort mechanism he likes to fall back on. The cutest part is Ciri, who is reading with her back leaned against Geralt's arm. He isn't trying to dislodge her, isn't making broody grunts, and is keeping his motions small enough it doesn't jostle her too terribly. This is something he'd love to write a song about some day. Maybe just for their little group though, not for the whole world to hear. "Thanks for ordering dinner," he says, walking to the table. "These look delicious."

Ciri all but tosses the book down and runs to the table. Geralt pulls a couple chairs over and they crowd around it, though it isn't meant to be used as a dinner table and the chairs are all at the wrong height. "This one," he says while pointing at one pie, "is for you and Ciri to split."

"And you get an entire pie to yourself because?" Jaskier asks.

Geralt ignores him and continues talking. "Now, Ciri, since I am your... supervising adult, it's my job to teach you... things. So, first lesson: when we hurt our friends, it's important we apologize to them."

"I know that," she says, looking at him like he's lost his mind. Between her bewilderment and Geralt's obvious discomfort, Jaskier has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. 

"An important part of _that_ ," he barrels on, "is taking back things you've said that you regret. This is known as eating one's words."

"I'm not an idiot," Ciri protests, "I know all of this."

"Which is why I get an entire pie to myself." He looks away from her and stares intensely at Jaskier's face as he cuts into the pie. Except nothing comes out of the pie when he cuts. The shell is empty and crumbles on itself. "A fillingless pie."

Ciri still looks completely lost, but Jaskier can no longer hold back his laughter. It bursts out, a wild, hysterical thing, as Geralt maintains his very neutral face and eats the flaky breading. "You two are weird," Ciri mutters, and starts eating on the pie she's to split with him. 

Geralt gets through the entire thing, looking increasingly mulish. He takes a huge drink of wine, then clears his throat. "And that, Ciri, is why you don't tell your friend his voice is like a disappointing pie without filling."

Her mouth falls open in shock. "How could you say such a thing? Jaskier's voice is not like that."

"Well, I know that now, don't I?"

"How bad was it?" Jaskier asks, nodding at his empty plate. 

He cringes. "Definitely not as bad as anything you ever sang."

Jaskier shakes his head with a smile and pushes what's left of their pie to him. He and Ciri had gotten good at exchanging looks while Geralt focused on the dry pie crust, and had agreed to share. "You're forgiven."

Geralt holds his gaze for one long moment. "I shouldn't be," he says, but then the moment breaks and he takes what he's offered.


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt is more exhausted than he's been in years. Possibly since that damned djinn. But Jaskier's cheeks probably hurt from how much he's smiling, and Ciri is much happier and more relaxed than he's seen her in a while. So he agrees to join their game when Jaskier produces a cup with knucklebones in it from somewhere. It looks a little worse for the wear, gods knows how long he's had it, but Ciri is clearly delighted that he had something to do besides read. He makes a mental note to find her something they can do while traveling, something easily portable - a card game, maybe? 

As they play, he forces himself to remain talkative. All he really wants to do is retreat to a corner of the room and process everything, but he has two people who need him to be more than that. Ciri can't have him shutting himself away like he used to, and he has to do better if he's going to keep Jaskier's forgiveness and friendship. Something must show on his face though. He sees Jaskier and Ciri sharing looks, which leaves him both pleased and a little worried. One hand, it's good that they're getting along and bonding already. He needs them to if they're going to travel together. But for them to get along this quickly? To already be sharing silent conversations around him? That suggests a dynamic that might very well bite him in the ass when they decide to gang up on him for something they want. They're each hard enough to wrangle on their own, without each other's help. Finally, Jaskier puts him out of his misery. "You can stop talking. I know you're sorry and I've forgiven you. It's appreciated but-"

"You look like we're torturing you," Ciri finishes for him.

"Oh thank fuck," Geralt says with a sigh. Ciri laughs, which is good to hear; she does it so rarely. He stays playing with them, but he only communicates in his usual vocabulary of hums and grunts. They don't seem to mind. It helps him breathe a little easier, knowing he's still palatable to them despite being withdrawn. He should have known, of course, but... meeting with Jaskier has really thrown him off. They play until Ciri starts nodding a little in her seat. Jaskier pulls out his lute and starts playing, strumming Toss A Coin though not singing along. Geralt can tell he hasn't played it in a while. A couple notes fall just shy of correct, something he only recognizes because he's heard it so many damn times. He doesn't complain and doesn't comment. The only thing Jaskier probably wanted thrown at him was knives. Maybe moldy fruit if he felt charitable. 

When Ciri is asleep, they adjourn to the small bedroom to do the same. He hesitates. "I could take the floor."

"Or you could share the bed, like I offered," Jaskier says. "It's fine, Geralt. Really."

So he lays down next to him and relaxes. It's a nicer bed than they would have got at the inn. Ciri is probably more comfortable too. He lays on his side, facing the door, and feels Jaskier push his back against Geralt's. They'd slept like this on the road many times, to help keep guard if they were both too tired to keep watch throughout the night. Or to share a bed if they didn't have the coin for two rooms. It takes some time, but he gets himself to fall asleep eventually, only to wake seemingly right away when he hears Ciri sniffling. He's about to get up when he feels Jaskier move behind him. He manages to climb around Geralt - it would have woken him if he were really asleep, but he pretends so as to see what's going to happen - and goes to her. Geralt rises quietly and just barely cracks the door, allowing him to watch their interaction without being seen.

"What's wrong?" Jaskier asks Ciri, lighting a candle and pulling a chair over to sit beside her. "Bad dream?" She shakes her head. She's sitting with her arms around her knees and head buried, so all Geralt can make out is her hair rippling with her movements. "Is it okay if I touch you?" he asks. When she nods, he puts a hand on her back and rubs it gently. "Do you want to talk about what's wrong?"

"I don't want you and Geralt to die," Ciri chokes out.

Jaskier looks as confused and taken aback as Geralt feels, but he keeps comforting her. "Well, I wasn't planning on it anytime soon, and I'm pretty sure Geralt isn't anywhere near the point of slowing down, especially not now that he's got you. What brought this on?"

It takes her some time to get herself under control enough to talk about it. Eventually, she explains, "I was thinking about how happy I was to have a new family, even if I miss my old one, and then I remembered Dara. He was supposed to be my family but I made mistakes and almost got him killed and then he left me because he said death follows me everywhere or something, and what if he's right? What if he's right, Jaskier, and you and Geralt are going to die by traveling with me and everyone I get close to dies and I have to be alone forever?" She's sobbing again by the end. 

Geralt is moving without thinking. He'd run to her side, but the dormitory is so small it only takes him a few full strides to cross the room. Jaskier doesn't seem surprised to see him at all. Ciri looks up at him and shifts so he can sit on the couch next to her. He pulls her to his side and puts an arm around her. Jaskier slides into the space left behind when she moved, and goes to hold her too. They both end up with their arms around Ciri and each other, so that she's squished in the middle of the hug. "Won't happen," Geralt growls. 

She cries a little harder. "You can't know that!"

"What he means is it won't happen because of you," Jaskier translates inaccurately. Geralt is about to correct him, but he continues, "If either of us die, it's the fault of the creature that takes us down, not you. We are choosing to stay with you. If something happens, it won't be your fault."

"But what about the Law of Surprise? Destiny put us together, and now he's got you dragged into it, and-"

"Hey, hey, hey, no, that's not it at all. Geralt's just an idiot," Jaskier reassures her. "He could have chosen anything for that debt. He's the dumbass that spent all night saying Destiny was bullshit and then bet against it. He is a stupid, stupid man, and that's not your fault."

"It's true," Geralt sighs. He feels more than hears Ciri hiccup with a laugh. "Most people claim the Law of Surprise hoping to gain much and get little. For me, it was the opposite. In a good way," he adds hastily when Jaskier pokes at his shoulder. "I never planned on claiming it, on claiming you, but... I wasn't going to let something bad happen to you just because I lost a gamble with Destiny."

They hold her until she's calmed down. Jaskier starts to stand, but she grabs his hand, so he stays. It's quiet for a time, until Jaskier starts humming. "What song is that?" she asks, voice quiet.

"One that I'm still writing. I've got the idea, just trying to put the right words and tune together."

"What's it about?" 

"You," he says, squeezing her hand since she still hadn't released his.

"Me?"

"Of course. I'm thinking of something about the Lion Cub of Cintra, being chased and hounded by the monster of Death - or Death as a monster? I'm working on it - and then you find the White Wolf, your Destiny, because he's a Witcher, and we all know what Witchers do to monsters. And then you grow up and become powerful and protect the Wolf while he protects you, and all the monsters that Death sends to you can't touch you because you're watching each other's backs."

The candle's light is dim, but it's more than enough for Geralt to see how enraptured Ciri looks as Jaskier spins his tale. Jaskier is barely present, he can tell; he always gets a far off look when he's composing ballads and things that need a little more effort. "I like it," he says softly. Jaskier almost startles, then looks at him and beams.

"But aren't you going to be there?" Ciri says. "Where are you in the song?"

"I am in the background cheering you on, because I am not a fighter, no matter how hard Geralt tried to teach me self-defense when I was traveling with him before."

"Which we will be doing again, since you're coming along," Geralt reminds him. He gets a groan but no real argument.

"You have to be in there somewhere," Ciri argues. "You're part of this family too. This song."

Geralt wants to be surprised at how quickly Ciri adopted Jaskier, but he can't be. He remembers how hard he didn't argue when Jaskier insisted on tagging along all those years ago. He has a very annoying tendency to worm his way into even the most walled-off of hearts. Jaskier, however, looks delighted. "Maybe something symbolic," he acquiesces. "A bard can't put themselves in their own ballad. It's considered bad taste. But maybe something you know is me even if no one else does."

She thinks for a few minutes while he hums more of his tune. "What about flowers? There could be flowers in it, because you know color and you're softer instead of a warrior."

"Sorry, is that a compliment or an insult?" Jaskier asks, pulling a face.

"Neither," she answers, "just a fact. Definitely not a bad thing."

"What about a dandelion?" Geralt suggests. Both of them stare at him, so he has to explain more, which he doesn't want to. "They're hardier than you think. Come back again and again even after you think you've got rid of them or they've all blown away. Brightly colored. More useful than they seem at first glance." He looks anywhere but at either of their faces. 

He doesn't have to look at Jaskier's to know how happy he is. "Well, I'll be damned, there's a soul of a poet buried under everything else. Who would have thought?" He growls, but all it does is make Jaskier laugh, just like every other time. "Don't worry, I won't put it in song. My job is to improve your reputation as a noble warrior, not damage it. But I know your secret now." 

"You're wrong, bard," he mutters. 

"I like it," Ciri interrupts their bickering. "It's got 'lion' in it, so it's kind of like how he's the Wolf and I'm the Lion Cub, but softer and nicer."

"So I'm a dandelion now?" he asks, and she nods decisively. "Well, who am I to argue? And here I thought I was more of a buttercup."

"You've thought about what kind of flower you are?" Geralt asks with a heavy sigh. Of course he has. 

"It came up one time with the Countess de Stael," he says, as if that explains everything when it really explains nothing. Ciri looks curious, but he doesn't explain, just keeps humming. Eventually, it's enough to lull her into sleep. 

Most of her weight is on Geralt now, and her fingers still firmly wrapped around Jaskier's hand. He smiles down at it as he readjusts himself to a more comfortable angle. Geralt feels bad; first they invade his meeting with his father, then his rooms, then he can't even sleep in his own bed. "I'll move her," he declares, and is met with a very disapproving glare.

"Like hell you will," Jaskier mutters, and turns his body a little more towards her. 

He allows himself a small smile, since no one is looking, and settles in himself. It doesn't matter if he wakes with a crick in his neck, because for once, he is safe and will be tomorrow as well.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few weeks pass in a blur for Jaskier. He still has responsibilities that he can't shirk, and his father is still in town. Ciri and Geralt find ways to fill their time and amuse themselves. Apparently, Geralt had saved enough to coin to stay for at least week in Oxenfurt, possibly more depending on how much he'd be charged to learn to play, so he has enough for them to actually enjoy their time here. Ciri pushes him to save it all for the festivities; to be fair, Oxenfurt's post exam partying is almost legendary. Jaskier has them go shopping first though. He knows that shopkeepers will asks more for the same goods after it's gotten lively. They make a day of it while Geralt follows them and broods. Jaskier's just happy to have his friend back. 

Geralt really does seem to be making the effort to be his friend, so the dynamic is a little weird. They'll adjust, he's sure of it, but for now it's Geralt being too nice and him too chatty to fill the silence since there's fewer insults this time around. Thank the gods Ciri is normal. At least one of them can function properly. Geralt's been helpful too, as he prepares for exams. His course is on songwriting and traveling, since that's what he's done most of. He's going to give out different scenarios to each student, and give them an hour to write a song for it. It's basically what he did for Toss a Coin, which is still his most a famous to date (a fact that doesn't grate as much as it used to). He's already planning on passing anyone who tries hard enough, even if what they produce is terrible. Not every song is going to be a hit, no matter who you are. Geralt has been providing a lot of input on ideas for scenarios to hand out, and it's been a good way to reconnect. Some of the scenarios are based on adventures he's missed during their time apart, others on some bits of his past that he hadn't shared before. Nothing personal, of course. But stories of scars long before Jaskier's time. 

It's with great reluctance that he leaves their latest brainstorming session early. "There's someone I have to meet," he explains. Geralt raises an eyebrow. "Not like that," he adds, eyes darting to Ciri, who's thankfully ignoring them. He isn't ready to have that particular conversation with her yet. 

He doesn't provide any other explanation though, just goes down to the kitchens. There's no one there, thankfully, meaning there's no one to panic when a powerful mage opens a portal and comes inside. "Why are we here?" Yennefer of Vengerberg asked, making a face. 

"Because Geralt's in my room and there's more wine here," he answers honestly.

"That's a good reason," she says, "but this wine is shit."

"Hey now," he protests mildly out of loyalty, though he can tell the two bottles she's carrying are much nicer than anything here. 

She hands him one and makes herself comfortable at a table. She's not in a dress for once. Still an all black ensemble, of course, but pants and some kind of dramatic top. She puts her feet up, hands him a bottle, and opens them both with a wave of her hand. "So you've taken him back?"

He perches on the table and takes a drink. "He apologized. Actually apologized, with words and feelings and everything. It would be like someone else groveling at your feet, it was so sincere. I couldn't not." He tells her about the pie, and she laughs brightly. He smiles too. "I wanted to stay mad when I first saw him, you have no idea, but." He shrugs. "He meant it. It really was genuine. Even if it goes to hell again, at least he tried."

"I get it," she says. "I'd probably be tempted to do the same in your shoes, damn him."

"I told him you're alive. He mentioned he couldn't feel you anymore, after Sodden, and he was crushed Yen. I couldn't let him suffer. But I told him you'd be mad at me if you found out I told him, so you shouldn't have a groveling Witcher showing up at your doorstep until you're ready."

She takes a long drink, but doesn't stab him in the balls, so it's fine. "He actually looked sad?"

"By a normal person's standards, sad. By his standards? Completely heartbroken. I get why you're mad at him and uncertain, I really do, but I'm sure that what he feels for you is real." She glares and he puts his empty hand up in a show of contrition. "I'm not pushing you, just telling you."

She still looks irritated, but lets it slide. "So tell me what you've been up to."

That's what she says, but not what she means, and he knows that. He begins filling her in on all the drama she's missed in the time since they've talked last. After discovering they both shared a love of drama, bitching about others, and good wine, a very weird bond formed between them. Not friendship, per se. It wasn't that strong. But she would find him at random, open a portal without warning and appear, and bring good wine with her that they could get outrageously drunk to while complaining about the bullshit in their lives. 

After Sodden and her needing to recover at Aretuza, it pretty much became a monthly appointment, if not more. Apparently, the politics of the Brotherhood were driving her insane and she was ready to murder them all. Jaskier had similar feelings about the internal politics here at the university. So when Yen said, "Tell me about yourself," what she was really asking was, "Fill me in on all the drama I've missed, and just wait till you hear what I have to say." Is it friendship? He doesn't think so. He doesn't miss her company or look forward to the meetings the way he does with, say, Geralt, or another friend. But he would never turn down good wine, surprisingly decent company, and a chance to bitch about everything going on here. 

Yennefer takes her turn to rant after he finished. He doesn't have nearly as much this time as usual; Geralt showing up again had distracted him from all of the stuff that usually got under his skin. Yen has had no such distraction, and has a fine head of steam going. He takes the opportunity to drink more. He can barely follow her complaints at the best of times anyways, because she never gives him many details, just runs through a long litany of names and grievances against them. The only thing he really knows is that neither of them like this Stregebor guy; her for a variety of reasons, and him for all of those reasons plus his role in the Blaviken tale that Jaskier'd managed to wrest out of Geralt one day. His job is to sympathize with her and agree that all of the bullshit she complains about is just that, because that's what you do for someone who offers to curse Valdo Marx without knowing a thing about him except that you hate him, and oh gods, when did they become friends?

She gives him a weird look as he takes an extra long drink. "Are you even listening?"

"When did we become friends?" he asks, and damn, where did she find this wine? He is no stranger to imbibing copious amounts of alcohol, but this one has his head swimming and his tongue looser than usual.

She scoffs and shoves him. He isn't sure if she's extra strong or if there's some magic involved, but either way he falls off the table and onto his ass. The wine bottle in his hand is okay though, that's what matters. "You're drunk, bard."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm leaving."

"So am I," he says, standing up and brushing himself off. When he sees her preparing to open a portal, he hastens to add, "Soon, with Geralt. I'm going to be traveling with him again. Just so you know before our next drinking session. Thought you'd want fair warning."

"I don't care. He's nothing to me."

He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts, though that might be a side effect of the wine. "Sure, Yen, I believe you. See you whenever."

"I almost forgot." She hands him a vial she produces from somewhere on her person. "For the hangover." And then she's gone. 

_Not friends, my ass_ , he thinks as he stumbles back to his rooms. Geralt takes one look at how he's swaying when he makes it in the door and guides him to the bed. Ciri looks mildly concerned but Jaskier waves her off. Geralt notices the vial in his hand and pries it out of his grip. He takes a sniff and frowns, but hands it back. He grunts in an inquiring way, but even if Jaskier was going to betray Yen's confidence, his tongue is too sluggish to do so. That was some good wine.


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt is itching to get on the road by the time exam season is over for the Oxenfurt students. He can only sharpen his swords so many times before even that is neither grounding nor soothing. Jaskier is keeping secrets from him, which is his right, but it's frustrating that he can't ask why the man had Yennefer's scent lingering around him and a potion from her in hand. On top of that, he's found something he isn't perfect at it. No matter what Jaskier implies, it's not a sense of wounded pride that's made him grumpy, it's just the frustration that he can't seem to make the damned lute sound like anything but a dying cat. Jaskier had given him one, not the one from Filavandrel that he still uses but another one Geralt doesn't recognize, and insisted on teaching him. That was why he'd come to Oxenfurt, after all. 

It... isn't going well. He was made for swinging a sword and slaying monsters, not crafting a tune or coaxing a melody from a few strings. One would think, out of all the modifications to Witchers, at least one of them would make his fingers more nimble. If they did, it's come in much more handy for dalliances with temporary lovers than with music. Ciri at least has the courtesy not to grimace while he practices. Jaskier has no such hesitation, but somehow his complaints never feel mocking. It gives him a little better perspective into how hard Jaskier has worked and trained, and how much he probably should be earning of the Witcher's take each time he kills a monster. He wonders if that was the point of teaching him. 

Jaskier and Ciri, meanwhile, have bonded fantastically. He's definitely going to have a hard time keeping them in line if they decide to gang up against him, but fuck if it doesn't warm his heart a little. He's good at providing the sensitivity that Geralt just can't, and he never seems bothered when her more royal temperaments rise to the surface. He serves as their guide when the parties start up around Oxenfurt. He takes her to some of them and steers her away from others with either a clever misdirection or a bribe of some kind - a special treat, such as a necklace like Geralt had once considered. She gets to see the city and activities she'd wanted, and he keeps them from wandering into events that are a little more mature than she thinks she is. For once, he feels like this might actually work. They might actually stand a chance at traveling together and not killing one another in the process. 

Before leaving the city, Jaskier's father left him with the money to buy a horse for the journey he'd be taking. It holds his bags and lute, and Geralt puts his own there with it. He has no intention of touching the thing ever again, now that they're leaving, but he knows Jaskier will throw a fit if he abandons it. Maybe Ciri will enjoy it one day. Or they can sell it if they can't manage the coin for food and drink. Or it'll make good firewood. He just really hates the fucking thing, okay? 

For all that he used to complain about walking, Jaskier spends most of their journey doing so. He says it's so Ciri can ride, but Geralt's sure the horse could carry both of them; she's still small. "Nostalgia," Jaskier admits when he finally understands what Geralt's trying to ask with hums and tilted heads. "I wrote some of my best work this way, you know." He's quieter, too. He still plays his lute and sings, but there's a lot less inane chatter. To his annoyance, Geralt misses it. It made the time between jobs go faster. Now, almost having it but not quite is almost more irritating than when all he had was silence.

It lasts until he starts making Ciri and Jaskier practice self-defense. He never thought he'd be happy to hear complaining and whining again. He wants to tease about how Ciri whines less, but he's afraid it will make Jaskier be quiet again. Also, Ciri might get mad at him for implying she's young and immature. Fuck, relationships are hard. He can't even lie and say this shit is overrated, because he's learned the hard way it isn't. The only thing he misses about the days where he traveled alone and thought he was fine was that he didn't know better. He couldn't go back now, and doesn't want to.

He hates having to do it, but he makes himself talk to Jaskier. He waits till they're alone, Ciri still practicing her form while he wraps a cut Jaskier managed to get from a practice sword he'd got him - a fucking practice sword! "I already said I don't hate your voice. You can talk," he says quietly, focusing only on the wound. 

Jaskier studies him for a moment. Whatever he sees inspires honesty. "Just not sure how long that's going to last. No sending me away before I've got at least one more good song out of you, okay?"

"I'm not sending you away at all," Geralt promises, wondering if he'll regret it, hoping he won't. "You don't have to stay. You're your own man. But I won't push you away again."

"Missed my singing that much?" Jaskier teases. He probably thinks Geralt won't rise to his bait. All he does is grunt, but it's enough for Jaskier to look overjoyed. Apparently that was more than he was expecting, which is stupid, because Geralt had said he was sorry and eaten the damn pie, surely he got the point by now. "Sorry," Jaskier says quietly. "Still getting used to hearing it." Geralt hums, and doesn't nag when Jaskier picks up his lute instead of his sword to practice with. 

Jaskier still disappears to see Yennefer from time to time. He always come back smelling like her, but never like sex. Not that it's any of Geralt's business, not anymore, no matter what his heart thinks. But it's weird. They couldn't meet without insulting each other before. Now they seem to do so regularly, and for nothing except wine, as far as he can tell. He respects it when Jaskier says he's going out alone and to stay back, but the puzzle of it all irks him. Ciri is plenty nosy and asks lots of questions, but Jaskier just smiles and dodges them, distracting her with flowery words and a song. Fucking bards.

Coin hasn't been great lately. As clumsy and useless as he is with a sword, Jaskier more than pulls his weight on their team by singing for their supper. Winter is coming though, and soon even singing might not be enough. He's leading them to Kaer Morhen, where he can start training Ciri in earnest and where they'll be protected from the increased troubles and decreased wages that winter always brings. Life was so much easier when he only had to worry about one person. A quick glance at Ciri and Jaskier sitting with heads bent over a song Jaskier's been working on confirms that while it was easier, it wasn't as fulfilling. He wonders who started the rumor that Witchers had no hearts. He'd rather like to feed them theirs, whoever they are. 

Things are going well on whole, until they aren't. He's on a hunt, thanks to that aforementioned shortage of coin, and despite telling them not to be, so are Ciri and Jaskier. Jaskier for details for his ballads, saying Geralt doesn't give him enough, Ciri because she won't be left behind at the inn. And now there is a pack of wargs who have caught their scent, and he's good but even he's not sure if he can be in three places at once. "This song better be worth dying for, Jask," he growls.

Jaskier and Ciri both have swords drawn and are standing back to back. "Die to a pack of wargs? While you're standing there? Geralt, if you let the wargs take me after everything we've survived together, I am coming back as a ghost just so I can haunt you for the rest of your miserably long life."

"What, have some unfinished business to attend to?"

"Yes, pissing you off for letting me die to wargs!"

He hates splitting his attention, but it's keeping Ciri calm, and that's important right now. He and the head of the pack have locked eyes and are growling at each other, waiting for the other to strike first. He's sure if they do make it out of this, it's going in a song that calls him the White Wolf no less than a dozen times. "If I make you an opening, take it and run," he orders. If he keeps the leader distracted, he can use Aard to punch a hole to his left, and Jaskier can get Ciri to safety. Or the other way around if she screams. "On my count. Three-"

He's cut off by a portal opening next to him. "Jaskier!" Yennefer yells as she comes through, hands raised to ruin someone's day. 

Everything explodes into motion at her appearance. Thankfully, it's the wargs she decides to take her wrath out on and not Jaskier. It's a fraught couple of minutes - he's never seen a pack this big. He can hear Ciri and Jaskier having to fight, sees them swinging wildly as he mows through the beasts to get to their side. It's Yennefer who gives him the opening he needs to get to them. Her magic has gotten stronger since he saw her last. Between his sword and her magic, none survive. He's gotten a bite to the shoulder for his efforts, and Yennefer's leg is bleeding with claw marks torn into her pants. They're alive though, all of them. 

"Give that back, you brute," Jaskier snaps at the body of a warg. His sword is sticking out of it. Despite his anger, Geralt is a little proud. He shouldn't haven been here, and it was only one warg, but still. He managed to kill a warg on his own. Geralt's training must be paying off, finally. 

"Thank you," he says to Yennefer instead of yelling at or praising Jaskier, whichever would found its way to his tongue first.

She furrows her brow. "You're not poisoned, are you? First you look like you're having trouble with wargs, and now you're thanking me?"

"He's getting better at it," Jaskier says defensively, then yelps as he finally pulls his sword free and falls backwards from the motion.

She bends down and hauls Jaskier back to his feet by the back of his jacket. "Are you hurt?"

Jaskier shakes his head, but quells under her glare. "A little, it's not bad, it's just a-" She glares some more and he hangs his head. "My ankle might be a little messed up?" Ciri comes and stands by Geralt's side. She'd taken time to clean her sword and observe the newcomer. He feels her tugging at his sleeve, but he isn't ready to answer yet, caught up in watching Yennefer wrap her arm under Jaskier's and half-drag him to a fallen tree so he can sit and she can tend to his leg. Jaskier whines the whole time, of course. That's how Geralt knows he'll be okay. "Thanks, Yennefer," he says when she pulls her hand away from his leg and hands him back his boot. 

"You're Yennefer?" Ciri asks excitedly. 

Violet eyes turn to her. "I am." But Yennefer's attention is immediately back on Jaskier. "Where else?" He holds out an arm and she tends to whatever she sees there. "If you're going to follow them around, you need to train more," she tells him.

"I have been training! Didn't you see I killed one? Geralt, tell her I've been training." He grunts in affirmation. "See, Geralt even said so. He makes us train all the time and it's exhausting but-"

"Train better then. I can't come get you out of trouble every time you wind up waist-deep in it." Yennefer, Geralt realizes, is scared. Or was scared, anyways. Scared of losing Jaskier. He understands, but that doesn't make it less surprising.

"How'd you know he was in trouble?" Ciri asks, determined not to be left out. 

"I put a tracking spell on him. It let me know if he was in danger," Yennefer explains, tone softening.

Jaskier smirks. "So you put a warning bell on me to make sure I didn't get in too much trouble, you come to my rescue, you heal my injuries so well I won't even get a cool scar from it, and still you refuse to admit we're friends?" Yennefer opens her mouth to argue, then closes it and glares. With a hard shove, she unseats him and he falls on his ass on the forest floor. He's laughing though, and immediately springs back to his feet. He looks at Geralt. "She came around to the idea much faster than you did, you know. And I didn't even give her a chamomile massage. You are a stubborn bastard, Geralt of Rivia."

"Well, that's hardly news," Yennefer says. She waves a hand in the air around Jaskier.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking you're not hurt anywhere else, _friend_." Only she could make the word sound so distasteful, like caring about the idiot is truly the worst thing in the world. 

"I'm fine. Check Fiona and Geralt here, they were the ones who did most of the fighting."

Yennefer turns her attention to Geralt. It hurts him and heals him in the same moment, as his eyes hold hers. Gods, he's missed her. Her fire, her spirit, her humor. But he remembers her walking away that day on the mountain, and how deep those words from her cut. She puts her hand to his bite, but he takes her wrist in his hand and gently pulls it away. "Take care of your leg first." 

She tugs her hand loose and puts it back on his arm. She puts her other hand on her leg and cures both at the same time. _Show off_ , he thinks fondly, but doesn't say. Yennefer looks good, really good. Healthy and beautiful and powerful. 

She doesn't say anything either at first, but her eyes are softer than they were last time they spoke. "You've got to be more careful," she chides. "One might think you were getting slow." 

He makes himself look down before he drinks her in anymore. It's going to hurt too much when she walks away again. His eyes meet Ciri's, whose eyes are wide and darting between them. "This is-" He hesitates. 

Yen steps away from Geralt. "Are you his Surprise?"

She nods. "My name's Ciri. We use Fiona if we don't know if the person's good or bad, that's why Jaskier said that," she explains, far too honestly. 

"Cirilla," he growls, "you've just met."

"It's _Yennefer_ ," she says, like it's a reasonable explanation and he's the idiot. "I can trust her."

"What makes you say that?" Yen asks before Geralt can get the words out.

She shrugs. "Jaskier does."

"I do _not_ ," the bard exclaims, all puffed up offense. "She's threatened me, you know, holding knives against important body parts and saying she'd remove them if I didn't do what she wanted."

"You just said you were friends," Ciri points out, scrunching up her nose in confusion. 

"I also think she's crazy and completely terrifying," Jaskier says. 

"And I think he's useless and annoying," Yennefer tells Ciri.

"How dare you? I am your friend!" Yennefer rolls her eyes, but it makes Ciri giggle. "And I am not useless! I killed a- at least three wargs!"

"Three? Really? Oh, very well done, certainly not useless then," Yennefer says, winking at Ciri. He keeps spluttering in indignation and both women start laughing together. 

It reminds Geralt that he needs to keep moving. He has to protect Ciri, and not just from wargs, but from mundane things like "sleeping in the woods because they're too poor to afford the inn" and "hunger". She hasn't laughed like this in a while, and as much as he doesn't want to dispel the good mood, he also doesn't want his emotions to get in the way of her having it again. "You should head back to the inn," he tells them. "Wait there. I'll be back when the job's done."

Ciri pouts. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Yeah, but Jaskier can't," Yennefer points out.

"Five whole wargs!" he yells, exaggerating even more. 

She shakes her head, and there's a smile dancing on her lips. "Tell you what, since I'm here, you two go back to the inn, I'll help Geralt with his job, and I'll do dinner with you guys. I've got lots of questions about you, so I'm sure it's the same the other way around, right?"

Ciri nods. "Promise?"

"Promise," Yennefer says with a smile. 

"Fiiiiiine," Ciri groans dramatically. 

"You've been spending too much time with Jaskier."

Geralt chuckles, pulling a surprised look from Yennefer. What, he laughed before? Right? "We'll see you at the inn. Stay safe. Scream if you get into trouble. I'll hear you."

Jaskier and Ciri both snort. "Let's go," he tells Yennefer as they leave. Internally, he starts crafting his apology. He's thought about it before, of course, but now's the time to get his words in order and use them properly.


	6. Chapter 6

Jaskier and Ciri are playing Gwent in the inn's tavern when the two get back. He's already sung his heart out for the evening, but he immediately jumps up and performs another round of Toss a Coin as the triumphant duo walk in. It manages to draw a couple more coins out of people's pockets, though not as much as usual. Both Witcher and witch look a little worse for the wear, but not nearly as bad as he has after some hunts. And they're smiling together, that's new. Somehow, Yen still looks as composed as ever, while Geralt still got covered in guts. He tuts at him disapprovingly. "Go bathe, you big brute. You're not eating with us while you smell like that."

Geralt grunts at him but obeys. Yen is looking at him in wonderment. "What did you do to him? He uses full sentences now, and apologizes! He actually apologized to me, not just grunting and looking all-" She cuts herself off, eyes darting to Ciri. He's probably better off not knowing how that sentence was going to end anyways, if it has her looking even mildly uncomfortable to share it. "And jokes! He has jokes now!"

"He's always had jokes," Jaskier protests defensively. 

"They aren't always very good though," Ciri adds unhelpfully.

"Exactly!" Yen exclaims. She drops into the seat next to Jaskier and steals some of his ale. Rude. "And now he apologizes, and admits to things like feelings without looking constipated, and makes jokes, and it's like I don't even know him anymore! What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he exclaims. 

"Then what did _you_ do?" she asks Ciri, who shrugs helplessly. 

"I think this is all him," Jaskier says gently, signalling a barmaid for a refill. Yen looks like she needs it as much as him. "He just actually wanted to do better. For her, for me, for you, for himself?" He shrugs. "I don't know about any of that. I don't know if he knows. But he's trying. Give him a chance."

Yen accepts the refill, making a face as she swallows. "We need better than this if we're getting drunk tonight."

"Then you have to provide it. My performance tonight will help us get to the next town, but not if I'm buying wine to suit your tastes."

Yen rolls her eyes, but nods. "So, 'Fiona', your name rings a bell. I think I might have heard of your grandmother."

"You probably did," Ciri says, idly shuffling the cards in front of her. It's clear they aren't playing any more tonight. "She was rather famous."

"Thought that might have been her. Which means you are the one I've been hearing rumors about, aren't you?"

"Probably." 

"Then it's good you're traveling with the White Wolf. He'll protect you."

Jaskier watches their exchange. Both of them are trying to play it cool and casual, like they aren't actually that interested in getting to know one another and are only waiting around for Geralt, but he knows that isn't the case. Not for Ciri, anyways. She's been pestering both of them about Yennefer for ages. Apparently, she somehow managed to feel Geralt crying out for her when their connection was severed after Sodden. There's no way that can be coincidental. And he knows what Yennefer looks like when she's all calculated disinterest. Ciri, he guesses, is just trying to play it safe. She's had to learn to do that the hard way, and though she forgot her caution in the woods in her excitement and relief, she has been doing a pretty good job of being careful. Yennefer, however - her game is anyone's guess. They might be friends, but that doesn't mean he's suddenly become better at reading her. 

Geralt comes back down, considerably less disgusting this time, and joins them for supper. It's a good meal, provided by a grateful barmaid meaning it probably isn't spat in, and the company is pleasant, even if the conversation is weirdly stilted sometimes. For once in his life, Jaskier listens more than he talks. Well, that's a bit of a stretch. But he doesn't dominate the entirety of the conversation. Maybe half. No more than three-quarters. Probably. But he has to sometimes! Or else he's pretty sure they'd all just be sitting in a weird silence by the time the night is out. No one seems to want to talk too much, but at the same time they're all interested in getting to know or relearn each other. Why couldn't he have made fewer emotionally incompetent friends? 

After dinner, Geralt and Ciri go to their room at the inn, while Jaskier and Yennefer have their wine night. Despite her complaining, Yen seems perfectly content to drink the rather unimpressive bottles that are the finest this tavern carries. She seems more interested in the drink tonight, which is a rare occurrence. Usually, she has a lot to say and can barely wait for him to finish. Ironically, the one night where he seems to have the floor is the one night where he just doesn't have much to say. Relatively speaking of course. "So. You and Geralt?" he finally asks.

"He apologized, like I said, words and everything. It really caught me off guard, which might be the first time he's ever done that."

He nods. "Did with me too. I thought he was sick and poisoned or dying. I know what I said before, but I really think it might be Ciri. I think he's finally realized what having a Child Surprise meant. Not just that he had to be in charge of someone else, but everything it entails. Parenthood and all that."

She shakes her head. "Last time we fought, part of it was because of her and how he'd abandoned her. Here I was, trying to find anything to cure my inability to have a child, and he had one that he didn't even care about! Not fair at all." He bites his lip, considering. As if she can read his mind - _can she? That's a terrifying thought_. - Yen glares at him. "No."

"Hear me out," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "I get what you said last time we talked about it, about wanting to have your say in what happens with your body. I get it," he stresses. "As much as I can, anyways. But you still have a choice, Yennefer, even if it's not the one you thought you wanted. You can have your cake and eat it too. Or, in this case, your insanely beautiful looks and power and a family. Don't eat that, though," he adds as an afterthought, mostly to make her smile, which it does. "You could adopt any child in the world and be a- well, a mother. Maybe a terrible one, maybe a great one, jury's still out." She punches him in the arm, but doesn't interrupt. "And you don't have to give up anything to do it! No more than any other parent, anyways. Having a daughter is a lot of work. I'm just saying, if you really want the choice to have a family, then fucking make it already."

He wonders if Geralt will start sharing his armor on nights where he meets with Yen, because she punches hard, even if it's only in the shoulder. It'd look oversized and ridiculous on him, but it might help keep him from bruising. "I know why you're pushing," she snaps, "so don't."

"Okay, then tell me why you were being weird at dinner. Why were you so weird around Fiona? She's great. I think you hurt her feelings," he lies. Turns out he can read her better than he thought, because he catches the barest glimpse of panic in her eyes before she shuts it down.

"She was the one being weird with me."

_Emotionally incompetent friends who are all five_ , he amends his previous musing about the company he keeps. "I can't imagine why a young woman who's lost everyone she's ever cared about, except for the people at that table, would be a little uncertain about letting someone new in. No idea."

"I can't be her mother. Don't ask that of me."

"Why not?" he presses. "She's a good kid. She'd probably love having another woman to talk to. And she could use your help. She's got some interesting abilities that Geralt and I can only help her so much with."

Yennefer nods. "I can feel her power. I was never in Cintra when she was alive, but they say her mother, at her Betrothal-"

He confirms it. "I was there. I don't know the extent of her power, or her mother's, or what it could be with proper training, but she'd probably flourish more under an actual mage than me and Geralt. I know he's got a plan, but he hasn't told me what it is yet, but that doesn't mean he can't adjust it to include you."

"He doesn't want me along."

Jaskier laughs at that. "Are you blind? Of course he does."

"The wish-"

"We've been over this. Don't make me repeat myself. What is this really about? Tell me or don't, but stop making up bullshit to get away from it."

She frowns into her mug. "I'm not ready to be her mother. I can't be around enough yet. Not for the stability she needs. I want to be someone's mother, and you're right that she's great, but...." She doesn't continue her thought, doesn't say where else she's going to go or what else she's going to do. 

"If that's why, then you're making the right choice," he tells her softly. They're sitting side by side on their bench, and he risks life, limb, and penis to put an arm around her shoulder. She starts a little, but doesn't put any distance between them or stab him. "I know you don't tell me everything about Aretuza, or what you're dealing with. I'm not- I don't want to push you to do something that will hurt you, or Fiona, but if you ever decide you're ready, our family has room for one more."

They're silent for a while. "For what it's worth," she says eventually, matching his soft tone from earlier, "I don't think it needs to grow. You guys are good for her. What you've got works. I'll keep your offer in mind, but if all she ever has are you two, I still think she'll turn out okay."

It warms him more than any fine wine, clothes, or company ever could. He squeezes her just slightly. "Well, until you're ready to make that choice, maybe just show up from time to time and be her really cool aunt. I meant it when I said she probably needs another woman in her life."

"I'll think about it."

He remembers something and scrambles to dig his notebook out. "Can you check something over for me then, since you're not coming?"

"I'm not giving you feedback on one of your little songs."

"Little-" He catches himself before he starts that argument and she leaves without helping him. "It's not one of my masterpieces, thank you very much." He flips past all of his lyrics and notes to the back of the book, where he has notes of an entirely different nature. "Read over this and tell me if it's accurate. I need to know before I talk to her about it."

He relishes in what will probably be the only time he completely shocks Yennefer of Vengerberg. Her mouth falls open and she stares at the page in front of her. "Jaskier, why the hell do you have such comprehensive notes about a woman's monthly cycle?"

"She's a young woman, and I don't know what her family taught her about before-" He flaps wildly to hopefully convey the invading army showed up and murdered all of them. "You think Geralt's going to have that talk with her? Can you actually imagine how that would go? Take a minute to think about it, please. It's a fantastic mental image. Cheers me up every time we're traveling and things go to shit." He waits until she's smiling too. "So the last town we stopped in, I went to a whorehouse and paid good coin for an evening spent in excellent company, and kept my pants on the entire time because I was buying information, not pleasure, and if that doesn't tell you how much I want for her to have an easy life and good things, then you've never met me."

"That is actually quite admirable, especially for you," Yennefer acknowledges. "This is really all you got out of that night?"

"Well-"

She snorts. "Thought not."

"But it's the only reason I went!" he adds hastily. "But seeing as I have no way of confirming anything in there and you won't be coming with us so there's no way of knowing if you'll be nearby to do the honors, can you check it out and tell me if there's any additions, subtractions, or corrections that need be made? I don't want to give her the wrong information if I can help it."

She stares at him instead of the book, which is frustrating. "It doesn't bother you? The thought of having that conversation?"

"Only that you'd be better for it, because you're actually, you know, a woman."

"Most men get grossed out by this kind of thing."

Jaskier chuckles. "I have a mother who made sure I understood the struggles women face before I was allowed to court them or take lovers, I've had extended dalliances with multiple fine women who have discovered my fingers can dance over sore muscles just as well as lute strings, and, might I point out, I regularly travel with and clean up after Geralt of Rivia? After the monster heads I've helped lug back for payment, I don't think very much can actually gross me out enough not to talk about it."

"I doubt anything in the known world can you gross you out enough not to talk, but I'll admit I underestimated you," Yen says with a smile. He grins back, and she keeps smiling as she bends over the notebook. He strums his lute idly, not really playing any real tune, just letting the music take him where it will. "All right, I admit, I'm impressed. You really didn't hold back with your questions, did you?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to be prepared, and since it's not something I'll experience first hand, I tried to be thorough."

She hands him the notebook back. "You're good for her. For them. Don't let him be stupid and send you away again. Make her yell at him if he tries. He'll listen to her if nothing else."

"The same goes for you," he tells her. She thwacks him upside the back of the head, but doesn't try to argue him on it.

That seems to be the end of that, until a couple weeks later when Yennefer is waiting for them at the edge of the woods they'd just wandered out of. Okay, they're probably not wandering, but Geralt is taking a path only he seems to know, so it kind of feels that way. "I'm coming with you," she announces, "but only because there's some things that shouldn't be taught by a man with a notebook."

She glares pointedly at Jaskier, and he tries not to grin too much at her less than convincing lie. "I thought so too," he says instead. Geralt looks confused but pleased, and Ciri elated, so he doesn't mind losing that particular honor. Especially when Yennefer asks to borrow his notebook to refresh her memory, since apparently it's been a while since she's had to worry about it. The set of her chin dares him to ask, and he's smart enough not to. He's just happy he and Ciri got their way; Yennefer is coming along, Geralt already looks less sulky, and their family has grown by one.


	7. Chapter 7

Ciri smiles as familiar footsteps crunched across the ground to their campsite. She is sandwiched between Yennefer and Geralt on the log by the fire, where they both insisted they were helping to keep her warm since winter was almost upon them. They are stopped a few days out from Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had left to visit a lady love who was temporarily staying in a nearby town, and they'd promised not to leave him behind. Yennefer would be leaving to go back to Aretuza soon, saying Tissaia needed her back, but she wouldn't leave before one last Wine Night with Jaskier because he'd throw a horrible fit. Cirilla is doing her the honor of pretending to believe that was why she delaying her return. She and Geralt are both funny about their emotions, and half of communicating with them is learning how to navigate their particular hang ups.

Jaskier is back now, though, based on the music that's growing steadily closer and the way Geralt relaxes at the sound. She's glad he's back; everything is more lively when he's around, and Geralt is less prone to bouts of brooding (though Yennefer helps with that too). She's been taking good care of his horse, which she calls Dandelion because it makes him smile all goofy. Even Yen looks a little impatient before he finally steps into view, and she still swears she barely tolerates him even as she aggressively saves his life.

"My friends!" he cries as he rejoins them. She leaps up and throws her arms around him, and he returns her hug as tightly as he can. Neither adult argues his greeting, which makes Ciri happy. Some bickering is fine, but not that kind. She doesn't want him to hurt. "It is good to see your fine faces and rejoin your wonderful company." He pulls away from her a little, but only so he can hold out a necklace for her. "Brought you something."

"Don't spoil her," Geralt grumps, like Ciri hadn't found a new bracelet in her pack last week.

She grins and puts it on. "Thank you," she says, hugging him again.

"So how was your visit with the Countess?" Yennefer asks as they come to sit down by the fire. Ciri sits on the other log with Jaskier now. He keeps an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she feels safe.

"Did she welcome you with - how'd you put it - open arms and very little clothing?" Geralt asks, voice light and teasing.

"Yes to both, though not to the extent I'd hoped," he answers cheerfully.

"Gross," she mutters. Her grandmother had already explained a lot of life to her before everything had gone to hell, and Yennefer had made sure any important gaps in her knowledge were filled - and Ciri knew that the book she'd read from was Jaskier's, and it touched her heart to know he'd been prepared to help her out like that. But that doesn't mean she wanted to think about any of them having sex.

He chuckles. "We had a fine time that I shall spare you the details of for Cirilla's sake, but she did raise an interesting point." He points at Yennefer. "How long have you known me?"

Yennefer makes a face. "Five, ten years? Something like that? Does it matter?"

"Have I aged at all, since then? That you've noticed?" She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut and frowns. "What about you, Geralt? We've known each other longer than that. Do I look different? At all?"

"Where's this coming from?" Geralt snaps. He sounds angry, but she's getting better at this game. That's his concerned angry voice, not his actually angry voice. There's small differences you get used to picking out over time.

"The Countess complained that while she's aged over the years, I still look as youthful as I did the last time she saw me, and I realized it's true. She still looks beautiful, of course, I don't think she'll ever look otherwise." Ciri smiles; she likes hearing Jaskier talk about the people he loves because he loves them so completely. "But she has definitely aged, and I haven't, have I? Do I look different at all, Yennefer? I know you made the joke about my crow's feet, but did you mean it?"

Yennefer frowns and beckons him over. Ciri shivers as he leaves her side. Yennefer takes his face in one hand, turning it this way and that. She frowns deeper and uses her other hand to summon a small ball of fire. She uses it as a light to inspect his face closer. He whines and mutters about her being too rough, but Ciri knows Yen would never hurt him. He returns to their log when she finally releases him and extinguishes the flame. "They're laugh lines, not crow's feet."

"What's the difference?" Ciri asks.

Yen's voice is a little odd as she explains, "My mother told me once, crow's feet come with age, laugh lines with smiles. His aren't his face just getting wrinkly because his skin is sagging-" There are grumbles of protests from the man in question, which she talks over. "They're from him smiling and laughing in the face of danger, meaning he gets plenty of practice."

"And the last time you saw her was the day with the djinn," Geralt says. "You did your magic too well, Yen."

Yen shakes her head. "This wasn't me. I'm very, very good, but even I don't know if I'm that good, and I only focused on curing what was wrong with him. I didn't introduce any new magic to his system."

"Well, I sure as fuck didn't do it," Geralt snaps.

"Guys, guys, I'm not done yet," Jaskier interrupts before they can really start fighting. "I've been thinking about it the entire time I was walking over here. I'm not the only one who hasn't aged. Did no one notice that Roach is exactly the same as she was then too?" The camp falls silent and they, as one, all turn to stare at the horse, who stares back at the sound of her name. "She hasn't slowed down a bit, she's just as healthy as ever," Jaskier continues. "As am I."

"Hmmmm," is all Geralt says.

"Geralt, my dearest, bestest friend in all the world, what the hell did you wish that day? Exactly, word for word, if you please," Jaskier asks in an overly saccharine tone.

Ciri holds her breath. The Wish, whatever it was, was a big problem, she knows. It caused huge rifts that almost broke her family apart before it formed. She's always wanted to ask about it, but been terrified that doing so will make things tense again.

Geralt's quiet a moment, staring into the fire. No one else speaks. "Fuck," he mutters softly. He looks up at them. "I was rambling because I was panicking. I asked to be bound to Yennefer, but-" He sighs heavily. "I think what I actually said was more along the lines of, 'I lose everyone I love and I'm tired of it, so don't let me lose another'."

"And you didn't think about it in the moment, but you loved more than me," Yen murmurs. "You loved your friend and your horse."

"So now we won't age, and we're bound to you too," Jaskier says. He doesn't sound upset, like Ciri knows Yennefer was when she found out. Instead, he's positively beaming. Then he frowns. "And to think I've been spending so much coin on my creams and products to belay the effects of time as much as possible, when you already took care of that for me." Geralt barks out a surprised laugh. "I'm serious, Geralt! Think of how many nights I could have slept in an actual bed instead of out in the forest if-"

"If you weren't so vain?" Yennefer teases.

"Like you can talk," he retorts.

Geralt is staring at Ciri as the other two bicker around them. "What?" she asks, a little unnerved.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "that I didn't love you yet." Jaskier's arm goes back around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "You've aged, so you weren't included because I didn't- Because I was-"

"A stubborn ass?" Jaskier provides. Geralt hums in agreement.

"Don't be stupid," Ciri tells him. Now it's her turn to be the focus of surprised staring. "Yen said that was five or ten years ago, right? I would have been a child, Geralt. Permanently. I would have been _miserable_. And Grandmother definitely would have killed you for it."

Both Yennefer and Jaskier start laughing, and Geralt smiles fondly at her, though his mirth is more contained. The light mood is restored to the camp, and Ciri settles into Jaskier's side. She knows how the night will go. They'll talk and laugh until Geralt says they - meaning she - need to sleep. Yen and Jask will protest that they're not children. Geralt will tell them to take first watch then, since they're awake, and Jaskier will play lullabies till they're asleep. Then he and Yen will break out the wine and spend the night talking. Sometimes it will be serious things, sometimes it will just be complaining about people like Stegebor and Valdo Marx, who Cirilla wholeheartedly hates along with them. It'll probably be more fond bickering, because it's almost time for Yen to go and they never talk about serious stuff when she has to leave. Her favorite is when they argue over which one of them is her mom. Depending on the general mood and how hard they're trying to cheer each other up depends on if they're arguing for themselves as team mom or each other, but either one makes Ciri happy. If it wouldn't give away how hard she works to stay awake to listen in, she'd call one or both of them 'Mom' just to see their faces. She never thought she'd be able to call someone else 'mother' after losing hers, but if it's one of them - well, that wouldn't be so bad, in her book.

She's looking forward to fighting to stay awake as long as she could tonight, especially since she knows Geralt will let her ride Roach tomorrow for it. He always does after they have a Wine Night, so she knows he knows she doesn't sleep those nights, as much as she can avoid it, to get a little extra time with them even if they aren't aware of it. The fact that he doesn't chastise means he doesn't mind, and she doesn't know when she'll get another chance. For now though, she sits and listens to her family around her, and the warmth that fills her isn't from the wood that burns merrily. It's from her family and knowing that, thanks to Destiny and djinns, she'll never be without them again.


End file.
